I got word today that I was actually approved for a huge, beautiful rent-stabilized apartment on St. Mark's Ave, kinda by Brower Park. It's gorgeous! It's large! It's got an ELEVATOR!
There's a broker fee, which is bugging me a little bit, because the stupid job I was on, We Real Cool, DID NOT PAY US. We will get some money from the payroll bond, but god knows when or how much. The rentals are a wash. I am selling the expendables to make enough to have my huge, beautiful rent-stabilized apartment.
I am trying not to worry about how part of the reason I pulled the trigger on this place was thinking about how nice it would be if Chris could bring Fred over. I will be happy there.
I am trying not to worry that I closed the door on Chris before he was done and that maybe if I had just given him some time things would be fine again one day. I can't worry that I closed the door before it was over though because it was over. He wasn't talking to me. I can't do that. I Can't Do That.
He still hasn't responded.
(It's only been an hour and ten minutes.)
I have a new apartment! I am proud of myself! Here is a reason I am proud:
When I was applying there was a part of me that was convinced I wouldn't get it because my income is so wonky, so I actually took the time to photoshop pay stubs to make them look like they were from October and not from July. I ACTUALLY did this. Then I realized that my bank statements wouldn't make any sense if I did that. Then I cried a little. Then I took a deep breath and applied with real, un-doctored pay stubs and added some extra documentation to show that my wonky income is very real and valid.
And I got the place! Honestly! With honest honesty!
I feel like a big kid. So proud of myself. And also proud that I am surrounded by people who love me and support me and will actually respond to my text messages in less than one hour and thirteen minutes.
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